Heist
by Quiet Leaf
Summary: Roy had caught him. After four endless years of search, Fullmetal, the most notorious thief in all of Amestris, was in military custody. Only he isn't quite what the Flame Alchemist expected . . . AU. No, seriously, it's really AUish. No OCs, and no pairings beyond what is canon or hinted.
1. Chapter 1

**I should not have started writing this. And I should not have posted this chapter. Oh well! This idea was too great to pass up, and I have yet to publish a Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction that isn't a crossover. So, please enjoy reading this thing which will distract me from my main project! :D**

 **I see no reason to post a disclaimer, since this site practically is a disclaimer, so on with the story!**

* * *

Colonel Roy Mustang was having a day just as ordinary as most. He had gotten up in the morning, showered, pulled on his military uniform, and driven to Eastern Headquarters. There he strode to his office, sat down at his desk, and began signing paperwork.

He never once looked at a newspaper.

That day continued just as it should, and he was none the wiser. The next week was the same as that first day. No newspapers, nothing unusual in the least. He took no notice of the whispers about the rise in theft-involved crimes.

The eighth day, however, not even he could ignore the large sum of money that mysteriously disappeared from the accounts of several high-ranking military officers in East City Bank.

It was chaos. Those whose money was missing complained loudly to their subordinates, and the Investigations Department was working overtime to figure out who had stolen all those cenz and how they had gotten in and out without leaving so much as a trace of evidence showing that they had been there.

After the second time this happened, they thought for sure the thief (or thieves) would be caught—after all you can't be so lucky as to escape so cleanly twice, can you?

They were wrong.

'-'

"Colonel Mustang." The Fuhrer gave him a piercing stare which raised the hairs on Roy's neck. "Two years this thief has been at large, and no one has found any proof as to who he is. Time and time again he has stolen, and each time we have failed to bring him in. I'm assigning this case to you in the hopes that you'll catch him. Don't let me down."

Roy snapped into a sharp salute. "Sir!"

'-'

Roy leaned back in his seat with a groan. He'd been pretty confident in himself when he was first assigned this case, but five months later he and his team had made little to no progress. Many of the leads they'd picked up had been fake, and several people had called his office claiming to be the infamous thief that the military wasn't competent enough to catch. They had to bring all of the people in question into custody and interrogate them, and all were let go after it had been confirmed that they were not who the Colonel was looking for.

He was sick of it. It should not take this long to catch a _thief_ (or perhaps, a group of thieves), of all criminals. The whole military was being mocked because of it, Roy in particular because he had been assigned the case after transferring to Central Headquarters. If only they'd been able to keep that bank burglary under wraps when it first happened.

What he wouldn't give for this thief to be caught.

'-'

They finally had a proper lead.

This guy was slipping—a civilian had seen him leaving the scene and remembered seeing an automail arm. It wasn't much, but it narrowed down their non-existent list of suspects by a great deal. Less than a quarter of Amestrian citizens had automail arms, and a number of those lived in Rush Valley.

A year and a half of investigating this case with his team, and they were almost done. Roy knew he shouldn't get his hopes up, this lead was almost too good to be true, but he couldn't help it. _This damn investigation was almost over._

'-'

Roy sat up, a tired smirk decorating his face. They might not have found their target in Rush Valley, but he was pretty sure he knew where he was; it was so obvious, he wondered why no one had noticed it before. Perhaps it hadn't been there to be noticed.

"Second Lieutenant Havoc, First Lieutenant Hawkeye, you're coming with me. We're heading out this afternoon, so get packed and get ready. We're not wasting any time."

"Yes sir!" The two officers saluted and left the office, and Roy soon followed them, heading to his own car once he had left the building and driving home.

That lead had been solid. This thief would not be escaping.

'-'

Hawkeye shifted her luggage into her left hand. "If I may ask, sir, where are we going?"

A train whistled and pulled into the station. Roy's smirk still hadn't dropped. "To the east."

Havoc took a puff on his cigarette. "So you think are guy's hiding out in some rural town? Don't you think that's a little too obvious?"

"And that, Havoc, is why he's hiding there."

'-'

Roy looked up to the end of the path where a homely-looking two-story house stood. "All right. Havoc, you go around back to make sure he can't escape if he bolts. Watch the windows too. Lieutenant Hawkeye, we'll go in and ask him a few questions, and, if he seems suspicious, take him into custody. Understood?"

"Yes sir!"

Roy and Riza waited for Havoc to get into position before striding up the path. Roy knocked.

The door was answered seven seconds later by a blond boy who looked about sixteen. He blinked upon seeing them. "Um, can I help you?"

Roy really hoped this wasn't who they were looking for—accusing innocent-looking teenagers of felony was not on his bucket list. "Is this the residence of Edward Elric?"

"Ah, yes. I'm his younger brother, Alphonse."

Hawkeye gave a small smile. "Don't look so worried. We just need to ask him a few questions."

The boy, Alphonse, returned the smile hesitantly. "Come on in. I'll go get brother." He opened the door wider and showed them to the living room before thumping up the stairs.

The two officers looked about the room while listening to the conversation upstairs ("Ed, wake up! There are people here to see you!" "All right, already! I'm awake!"). The side table by the sofa they were sitting on held a picture of a girl and two boys, one of whom looked rather like Alphonse Elric. They looked about four and five in the picture.

The mantle and walls were also lined with photographs, most of them of children from the first picture getting progressively older. A few had a woman with chestnut-brown hair, but she didn't get past the five-year-old pictures. There was a tiny old woman in many, and what were presumably several people from the small village of Resembool.

Roy tore his eyes away from what looked to be a family photo (the father's face had a piece of paper taped over it) as footsteps came thumping down the stairs.

Another blond was led into the living room by Alphonse, this one's hair long and up in a ponytail, and his automail right arm was plain to the eyes, seeing as the teen was wearing a tank top. He looked about a year older than Alphonse. This was Edward, no doubt.

The boy's eyes widened upon seeing them. "Military officers . . . ?"

"We're here to ask a few questions, Mr. Elric," Roy stated. "I'm Colonel Roy Mustang."

Edward's eyes narrowed. "Oh, you're that guy working on the Fullmetal case."

Roy pulled at the cuffs of his gloves. "Funny you should mention that. That's what we came here to talk about."

Elric was visibly sweating now, but his brother didn't seem to notice. "Fullmetal? Why would Ed know anything about that?"

"I _don't_ know anything about it!" Edward snapped, taking a step back. His eyes were darting all over the room.

Roy barely kept a smirk from spreading across his face. The way this kid was acting screamed guilty—now he just needed confirmation. "We never said that. We just have a few questions. Where were you on June 28?"

"I—I was . . ."

"And March 10?"

"It—it's none of your damn business!"

Alphonse stepped in. "Brother was out both of those days . . . Didn't Fullmetal strike on those dates?"

Edward took another step back, breathing fast.

The Lieutenant stood and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "We're going to need you to come with us."

Fullmetal didn't have the chance to move before the cuffs were snapped around his wrists. Unfortunately for them, however, it seemed that didn't matter, because he clapped his hands and in an impressive show of alchemy, transmuted the handcuffs into a useless lump of steel without a circle, which explained a lot. Then he took off running.

Roy and Riza ran after him, and after getting over his shock, so did Alphonse.

By the time they reached the back, Havoc already had Elric in a headlock. The thief was putting up quite a struggle, and Havoc had a pained look on his face.

Roy hurried toward him. "Don't let him claps his hands!"

Jean's grip slackened a little at these words, and the older of the Elrics pushed himself out of the Lieutenant's grip and right into the waiting arms of Colonel Mustang.

"Sorry to do this to you, kid," Roy grunted, and promptly knocked him out.

Alphonse rushed forward. "Mister—Colonel Mustang, what's going on?"

Roy handed Fullmetal back to Havoc and turned to the younger Elric brother, expression grim. "I'm afraid your brother is Fullmetal."

* * *

 **Woohoo! Sorry if it felt a bit rushed or if Ed was out of character, but that was so much fun to write!**

 **(Meanwhile in the background, No Longer Envious weeps because it was neglected so that I could write this.)**

 **Updates might be far and few between because No Longer Envious is my main story and I need to stick to it. But I have some of this plotted out already, so hopefully I won't get writer's block or anything.**

 **I hope you found that entertaining, please give me feedback, or whatever, and have a nice day/good night!**

 **-Quiet Leaf**


	2. Chapter 2

Alphonse didn't know what to think. He couldn't do _anything_ about what was happening. All he could do was listen to Colonel Mustang's explanation and watch as the soldiers carried his brother away. He stood there for what must have been ten minutes, then stumbled back into the house. He didn't bother to shut the door behind himself.

He sank heavily into a wooden chair in the kitchen, staring up at the ceiling with a blank face. Inside, his thoughts were jumbled. His brother _couldn't_ be Fullmetal—that just wasn't possible. Ed was his _brother_. He would never steal anything! But . . . Edward never told him or Winry what his mysterious job was. He pulled in heaps of money from whatever it was, and he was gone on a job every time Fullmetal struck. But he simply _couldn't_ be the same notorious thief that everyone in the military was pulling their hair out over . . . could he?

It was another hour before he stumbled to his feet and dragged himself to the Rockbell residence.

On the porch, he hesitated before knocking. The door was opened by Granny Pinako.

"Alphonse? What's wrong?"

Al gulped. "Granny . . . I need to tell you and Winry something."

Pinako frowned, but didn't question him. She opened the door wider. "Wait in the living room. I'll fetch Winry."

Alphonse nodded and stepped into the house. Once he had reached the living room, he plopped onto a stuffed armchair with a sigh. How was he going to tell them? Something like this was simple to explain, but somehow it seemed so hard.

Winry came down a minute later in her usual garb, Pinako close behind her, and they both took a seat on the sofa opposite him.

"What's this all about, Al?" Winry asked. "And where's Ed?"

Al shifted uncomfortably. He thought he'd gotten up the courage to say this, but the words seemed stuck in his throat.

"Where's Ed?" Winry demanded again, worry beginning to creep into her voice.

"He got taken away by some people from the military!" Alphonse blurted out.

Winry looked shocked, and Granny's expression said something along the lines of, "I thought something like this might happen, but I was really hoping it would't".

Alphonse began to explain before either of them had the chance say something. By he'd time he'd finished, Winry had gone very pale. Then she turned red.

"THAT IDIOT!" she yelled. "WHY DID HE START STEALING IN THE FIRST PLACE? DOES HE HAVE A DEATH WISH? IF HE REALLY IS FULLMETAL, HE COULD BE EXECUTED!"

Al winced and covered his ears. "Don't yell, Winry. I'm mad too." He really was. He couldn't believe that his brother had done this—he didn't think Ed was the sort of person who _stole_ things, but it explained his job, and a guilty man didn't run. He was sure of that. "But I don't think we can do anything about it. If he's Fullmetal, the same one that has been escaping the military and annoying them to no end, they probably aren't going to be fair on the trial—they might try to just send him straight jail."

"Yeah . . . I guess you're right. . . ."

They all fell silent. Pinako left to go make tea, and Winry pulled a wrench out of her pocket. Alphonse supposed she was imagining hitting Ed over the head with it until he caught hold of his senses.

When Granny returned with the tea, the silence was tentatively broken by Winry's trembling voice. "So, what do we do now?"

Pinako spoke up. "Al's right. We can't do anything about it. For now, we should continue with our everyday lives."

Al glanced up from where he'd been twiddling his thumbs. "'For now'?"

Granny nodded grimly. "Edward's neighbors, us included, might be called to Central to testify in court."

Alphonse's eyes widened. "I can't betray brother like that!"

Winry placed a hand on his arm. "Calm down, Al. We have to be strong—for Ed's sake."

Al took a deep breath. "Yeah. I guess you're right."

'-'

Ed groaned; his head was aching terribly, and whatever surface he was lying on was rather hard and lumpy. A hard surface. . . ? Where was he? What happened? He was . . . he had been . . .

The events from earlier came rushing back to him, and Ed sat up with a gasp. He looked around frantically, not really taking anything in, but managed to calm himself down a moment later.

He was sitting on a cot close to the bars of a dull gray cell.

A _military holding cell_. That meant it wasn't a dream.

The place was very simple; Edward could just clap his hands and break out. . . . But he couldn't.

His automail arm was missing, and his left hand was bound with coarse cloth that didn't allow him to carve transmutation circles, but gave him freedom to curl it into a fist.

He had to get out, run away where they wouldn't find him. But the cell had no windows to climb through.

Panic began to bubble up inside him again, and he was just considering attempting to break out without alchemy when footsteps alerted him to the approach of what was probably a guard. Said guard cast him only a passing glance before continuing on his way, then did a double-take and looked at him again.

"Oh, you're awake." The soldier spoke in a monotone, but there was underlying anger accompanied by smugness. "I have a bone to pick with you—then again, I doubt there's anyone in the military who doesn't." He stepped closer to the bars, blue eyes steely with anger. "You know how many nights I've had to stay at HQ, working all night, away from my wife and kid?" He reached through the bars and before Ed could escape, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled the alchemist up to eye level. "You're sure as hell going to pay for that."

Edward bared his teeth. "You know I could sue you for assaulting me."

The officer sneered. "With that stolen money of yours? I don't think so." He pulled Ed forward, banging his forehead against the bars, then sent him sprawling on the cot again. Edward was left in a daze, and by the time he had managed to sit up again the guard was gone.

He sat there for about half an hour, during which time he noticed another guard across the hall glaring at him. The Xingese prisoner he was guarding also stared, but his gaze was just curious. The prisoner eventually seemed to realize that Ed was uncomfortable being stared at and distracted the officer by trying to convince him that he was seventeen. The guard didn't believe him, hence the "trying".

Ed would have found the argument amusing, had he not been in the place where he least wanted to be.

He spent a little while considering various escape plans that he knew wouldn't work before a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Hey!"

Edward looked up from where he was examining his one hand. Outside of his cell stood a tall man with black hair and glasses. The corners of his eyes were wrinkled slightly, indicating that he smiled a lot, but his expression didn't have a lick of humor in it.

"I'm Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes from investigations. You're coming with me." The man gestured for the guard from earlier to unlock the cell. When the door had opened, the he stepped in.

Edward stubbornly remained seated.

The man sighed and grabbed him by the arm. His grip was firm, but not harsh as the guard's had been, and he pulled Ed along down the hall gently. From this, Ed got the impression that Hughes felt sorry for him.

They walked in silence—an uncomfortable silence. Edward didn't break it, and Hughes didn't seem to want to talk to him.

When they had reached the bottom floor, Hughes took a moment to talk to the young man standing at the front desk about his "removing the prisoner from the premises". Ed was then dragged (he refused to walk on willingly) outside, where a car was waiting with yet another officer sitting in the driver's seat. He was made to sit in the back and his hand was cuffed to the seat in front of him, where Hughes sat.

The car ride was also spent in silence. Edward got the feeling that the driver was new to the military, because he didn't glare at him. The Lieutenant Colonel didn't seem angry at him either—his glances were more pitying than anything. He opened his mouth as if to speak sometimes, then closed it again.

When they reached Central HQ, Ed didn't pretend to be amazed at the size of it—he'd been through Central City several times on odd jobs (that is, stealing), and had even taken from the place itself a few times when something of notable worth was kept there. They had fetched quite a hefty price on the black market.

The car stopped and Hughes stepped out. He was greeted by three more officers, one of whom opened the door and, after uncuffing him, pulled Ed out. When Edward started paying attention to the people around him, it took all his dignity to keep his jaw from clattering to the ground.

While the officer who had his hand wrapped around Ed's upper arm looked normal, with chin length blond hair, and the woman soldier as well, with short black hair, the mountain of a man talking to Hughes was a sight to behold.

He was about as tall as the suit of armor in Ed's basement, and was obviously about as muscled as a dedicated bodybuilder. Aside from a little loop of blond hair dangling over his forehead, he seemed to be bald.

Ed chose to speak at last. "So, who's the big guy?"

Hughes opened his mouth to respond, but wasn't given the chance.

"I?" The man's voice boomed, his mustache twitched with every word, and he seemed to grow even larger. "I AM ALEX LOUIS ARMSTRONG!" With this great bellow, he proceeded to rip of the top of his military uniform, showing that he did indeed have bulging muscles.

The blond man still holding onto Ed seemed to wilt; the woman twitched, and Hughes face-palmed. Ed gaped in horror; one, because who wouldn't be horrified at this? And two, he had stolen from the Armstrong household before.

"AND YOU MUST BE FULLMETAL—"

Ed shrank back.

"—THE ONE WHO STOLE A PRICELESS FAMILY HEIRLOOM THAT HAS BEEN PASSED DOWN THE ARMSTRONG LINE FOR GENERATIONS!" The man loomed over Edward, and in that moment he seemed even more intimidating than before.

Hughes cleared his throat before Armstrong could go on. "Now's not the time, Major."

He pulled back. "Of course, sir."

Once Armstrong had re-clothed his torso, they set off up the steps to the gate. Edward was still being dragged by the arm. The officer clutching him wasn't _quite_ as gentle as Hughes had been, but he was eventually passed back to the Lieutenant Colonel, and he could hear the lower-ranked officers whispering behind them about, "That poor kid, he can't be older than seventeen," and, "I heard he has a younger brother who didn't even know he was stealing." "What? No way!" He was starting to get fed up with their gossip when they stopped at the gates and the officers fell silent so as not to be heard by the guards standing at either end of the doors.

Once through, they continued up the cobbled path and into Headquarters, still without speaking a word. The lack of communication between the members of their diverse little group was starting to get to Ed, and he felt tension steadily growing inside him. It was like he was a timebomb, waiting until a set moment to blow up. And the time was ticking away.

Just when Edward thought he was about to explode, they stopped in front of a pair of double doors on the third floor. Beyond those, Ed was met by the sight of more officers sitting at desks and dutifully filling out paperwork. More were rushing about with files tucked under their arms and shouting orders to others. Ed supposed that seeing as the military had been on his case for a year, his capture must be causing quite a stir.

A mousy young woman with large glasses rushed by them holding a stack of books. She stumbled to stop when one almost fell off the top of her pile, then froze and turned around to stare at Ed. A moment later, another officer crashed into her, and she fell to the floor with a shriek, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room.

It didn't take them long to notice Edward standing there.

'-'

It was pandemonium. Many officers saluted to Hughes and Armstrong with cries of, "Sir!" while several others tried to get closer to Ed. Eventually, they managed to break through the crowd to the other side of the room and through another door. They all sighed in relief once the door had been closed, except for Armstrong, who had plowed through without a problem. Then the Lieutenant Colonel poked his head back out the door.

"Sheska, get in here! And bring Fullmetal's file!"

The mousy girl from before stumbled in a minute later, and Ed was made to take a seat at the table dominating the middle of the room. After instructing Sheska to note down the interrogation and ordering the other three officers to leave the room and calm down everyone in the office, Hughes sat on the other side of the table.

Sheska poised her pen over a blank page in what Edward supposed was his file, and Hughes leveled his gaze at him. "State your name and line of work."

* * *

 **Heya! Okay, in case anyone didn't notice or forgot, Ed's seventeen in this. Yeah. Because I wanted him to be seventeen. XD**

 **Thank you for all the fifteen follows, nine favorites, and five reviews! I'm glad that so many people responded well to this. :) Also, if anyone is interested, I posted this weird crack-ish one-shot called Fountain Pen in which Ed tries to buy a new pen from a stationary shop and everything dissolves into chaos. So yeah, if you want to read that, please do!**

 **Feel free to point out any mistakes in my writing or anything that sounds weird.**

 **-Quiet Leaf**


	3. Chapter 3

Ed attempted to cross his arms in defiance, but upon realizing he couldn't just settled for scowling. "Why should I say what I do for money? You know already, don't you?"

Hughes's eyes seemed to get narrower. "You're right, we do, but I'm going to give you a chance and keep the possibility open that you might not be who we're looking for. Now please answer the question."

Ed glanced at the door out of the corner of his eye. "I'm a thief. I steal things and sell them on the black market. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Hughes nodded. Sheska's pen scribbled.

"And you are Fullmetal?"

Edward considered this for a moment. "Maybe. Maybe not."

The Lieutenant Colonel sighed and closed his eyes. "Look, I'd like to get this over with as soon as possible. I don't like interrogating a kid, especially one who's disabled."

Ed narrowed his eyes. "Disabled?" He sent another glance at the door, trying to figure out if it was locked. Hughes didn't notice, only just reopening his eyes.

"Yes, in case you didn't notice, you only have one arm as well as an automail leg—"

To Hughes's misfortune, before he managed to say anything else Ed jumped across the table and socked him in the face. The man gasped as his chair fell on its back, with him still in it, and Ed took the opportunity to dive for the door. Sheska dropped out of a shocked stupor with a small intake of breath and tried to reach the door before he did, but Ed was faster.

He grabbed the doorknob, desperately trying to turn it—

 _Locked._

Hughes was recovering, he didn't have time to stand around. Without any more hesitation, he lifted his automail leg and slammed it against the doorknob. The door flew open, the edge splintered and broken. Ed almost fell over, but managed to regain his balance and bolt out of the room.

The office they had passed through on the way in wasn't as chaotic as before at first, but no soldier in their right mind would sit there watching a prisoner escape without doing anything about it. Ed had to throw several more punches and the occasional kick, but in the end he managed to make it to the door. By this time someone mustered up the sense to pull out a gun.

"Stay where you are!"

Ed stood there for a moment, gritting his teeth. Hughes was stepping over the downed officers, getting closer—he'd have to be quick if he wanted to get away.

Paying no heed to the armed officer, he pulled the door open—and there stood Major Armstrong.

Edward cursed his stupidity for overlooking this particular person—how could not notice that three of his escorts were missing from the room?—then a hand closed on his arm and spun him around to face Hughes. The Lieutenant Colonel looked up at Armstrong and nodded. This seemed to mean something, because the Major crouched and began to lean over.

"Please hold still for a moment, Edward Elric."

Ed raised his eyebrows in confusion. "What—GAH!" He cut himself off with a startled yelp as the support that his automail leg offered disappeared from beneath him. He refused to admit it to himself later, but he had to cling to Hughes in order to keep from falling to the ground.

"Sorry, kid," Hughes muttered, "but we can't have you escaping."

"Yeah, well," Ed snarled, "maybe you should have removed my leg sooner." Edward didn't think of himself as a person who liked having people help him stand up, both in the figurative and literal sense, unless it was Winry, because she was a close . . . _friend._ . . . So he let go of Hughes on impulse. What he had unfortunately forgotten, just for a moment, was that he couldn't stand on his one leg without properly balancing himself first, and even then he wouldn't be able to walk. His body was too off-balance for hopping, and that would look ridiculous anyway. So, upon releasing his grip on Hughes's shoulder, he promptly collapsed.

Ed decided it would be best to declare this the worst day of his life and be done with it.

He closed his eyes, and only felt when someone who he assumed was Armstrong picked him up off the ground. Ed heard a sigh behind him, and Hughes's voice said, "Poor kid."

He didn't need their pity.

"Well, Elric, it's back to the cell with you. We'll pick this up again tomorrow."

Ed didn't pay much attention to his surrounding on the way back to his holding cell. He was too angry at himself for being stupid enough to try and escape while unable to use alchemy and for not thinking about the consequences of his actions. He should have remembered Armstrong.

The Major plopped him down on his cell bed without a word. Ed looked from his port to Armstrong's exiting back. "Hey, aren't you even going to give my leg back?"

"Apologies, Edward Elric, but we cannot take any risks."

"Hey, cut me some slack!" he called, but the officer was already walking away. He leaned against the wall behind his cot with a frustrated growl. There was no way he'd ever be able to escape now, and he doubted any of his fellow criminals would want to help a cripple.

He scowled at the opposite wall of his cell. As much as he hated to admit, it seemed the military had won. He couldn't see any ways he was getting out of this.

He was just about to retreat into the darkest parts of his mind and stew in his despair when there came a call from across the hallway.

"Hey! Thief kid!" The 'I' was drawn out.

Ed looked across the hall and glared at the squinty-eyed Xingese teen from yesterday, who was now waving at him, seeming to have taken the chance to talk while there was no guard around. "What?"

The teen grinned. "You're Fullmetal, right?"

He nodded grudgingly.

"Impressive! I've heard a lot about you from the guards. You must have some pretty good tricks up your sleeves to go and rob so many places without being noticed!"

Ed scoffed. "Tricks? It's simple alchemy, nothing more. What are you in here for, anyway?"

The Xingese boy rocked back and forth on his heels. "I'm an illegal alien from Xing. The name's Ling Yao."

"Ling Yao . . ." Ed furrowed his brow. "The twelfth son of the emperor?"

"That's right," Ling said with a nod. "So you've heard of me?"

He shrugged. "I did some research after selling some stolen firearms to some Xingese official. I think his name was Cheng Lau."

Ling's eyebrows shot up. "You know, he tried to kill me about a year ago with some illegally obtained Amestrian weapons."

Ed snickered. "Whoops, sorry!"

What was he doing? He was in one of the worst positions possible for a criminal, even worse for one as infamous as he, and he was _laughing_. Maybe that was the reason; because his situation was so ridiculously hopeless.

His chuckles died at this thought; it seemed now that he had nothing more to do than wait for an opportunity.

'-'

"Yo, Roy!"

Roy looked up from where he was signing his paperwork and sighed, setting his pen down. "What is it this time, Hughes?"

Maes strode farther into the room until he was leaning on his best friend's desk. "You heard about the riots in Liore, right?"

Roy nodded. He had no idea what this was leading up to.

"Well, apparently it's become a full out insurrection."

This caught the Flame Alchemist's attention. He had gone to Liore a few months ago to investigate Fullmetal's latest thieving and uncovered a false prophet while he was at it. But he thought that had been taken care of, there shouldn't be a whole uprising happening. . . . "But how? Eastern troops should have been able to stop the riots!"

Hughes shook his head. "Troops from Central were sent out a few days ago, and that's when everything went to hell." He frowned. "Two rebellions in two decades. This really is a war-torn country isn't it." His brow furrowed. "There have been an awful lot of . . ." He trailed off.

Roy narrowed his eyes. "What is it, Hughes?"

He straightened up. "Nothing. Now I'd better get home, my beautiful Gracia and my adorable Elicia are waiting for me!" With that he pranced out of the room, a barely-real grin stretched across his face.

Roy sighed in exasperation and picked his pen back up again. That man had amazing mood swings.

'-'

Despite the way he acted when it came to his wife and child, Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes was by no means a stupid person. After all if he was then he wouldn't work as high as he did in the Investigations Department.

Investigations. . . . That was exactly what he was doing at the moment. He'd gotten out his map of Amestris at home and slowly, he was connecting the dots. Literally.

He'd always felt that the military was a little obsessed with conquering; now he understood why.

Whatever was going on in this country, it was a special kind of freak show.

* * *

 **Sorry this took forever, this chapter gave me some trouble and I'm not happy with it. Also I was lazy, and attempts at writing my original story were sucking the writing spirit out of me. But I'm back in gear and I've got a more organized order of writing my fanfiction chapters, so yay! Unfortunately I'm going on a camping trip soon, but it won't last long.**

 **I hope no one was too out of character in this chapter, particularly Hughes. I also hope that the writing doesn't seem too awkward in places.**

 **Please review!**

 **-Quiet Leaf**


	4. Chapter 4

" _I'd like to get this over with quickly, Edward."_

" _Why should I answer any of your questions? You already know what I've done, everything that I've stolen, so you might was well just sentence me to prison already."_

" _It would be better for you if you answer—"_

SLAM

" _Lieutenant Colonel, General Hakuro's been—!"_

'-'

Edward Elric was annoyed. Irritated. Vexed. Why? Because his colorfully dressed companion across the way was pestering him about alchemy, and more specifically, the Philosopher's Stone. Now, Ed may have been a genius when it came to alchemy, but the most he knew about the Stone was that it was a legendary object that couldn't _possibly_ be _real_.

Ling didn't believe him, however, and he was now stuck in an unofficial interrogation. An official one between he and Hughes had already taken place earlier that day, but was soon interrupted by an officer bearing bad news.

"Are you sure you don't know anything about it?"

Ed's eye twitched. "I fail to see what could make a stone so valuable that it surpasses the law of Equivalent Exchange. So no, I don't know anything."

Ling sighed in defeat and slumped down on his cot. "Oh well, it was worth a try." The Xingese boy then descended into a doze, leaving behind a blissful silence.

One which was not so blissful a few minutes later when Ed began to get fidgety.

Edward was no stranger to waiting: as a thief, he had to be prepared to wait for any amount of time in order to get what he wanted, but this kind of waiting was unbearable. He had no idea what he was waiting for, he had nothing to occupy his mind, and to make matters worse, he had only one leg available to him and was therefore unable to walk.

So all he could do was wait. He'd heard guards talking as they passed by his cell, muttering about how he should be imprisoned without a trial. He didn't get why they all believed him to be a thief, even if it was true; he had been suspected of petty thievery a few times by MP stations in small towns, but he'd always been able to fool them. He supposed that by now, almost everyone was desperate enough to believe that a crippled kid was Fullmetal.

With a sigh, he began tracing imaginary transmutation circles on the wall, wishing he could use them and get out of this damn place. But even if he could, there was no way to escape unless some abnormally friendly fellow prisoner with skills in certain areas was willing to fetch his limbs for him. . . .

His eyes trailed over to Ling.

. . . That might work. However, he couldn't risk the other detainees overhearing his offer, because they might try to join in, and he couldn't have that. Then there were the guards; if any of them heard, the news would spread fast, and while half of them would believe he was completely incapacitated, most of the other half would believe he had some trick hidden up his sleeve. The rest of the latter half would be unsure of what to think and try to stay out of it. There was an off chance that a soldier might have connections in the underworld and want him out of jail for some reason, but he doubted that.

So how on earth would he get a word in with Ling without anyone hearing?

Unfortunately, no miraculous solution revealed itself to him.

Ed sighed, formerly active hand going limp. He had managed to solve the problem of how he was getting out (probably), even though he was unwilling to trust Ling. Now he just had to figure out how to eliminate the other problem.

'-'

Roy sighed as he hung his coat on the coatrack. A long day of work was over, and now he could finally—

The door burst open behind him. "Hey, Roy!"

. . . Relax.

He sighed and turned around. "You could at least have the decency to knock."

Hughes smiled. "What would be the fun in that?" His expression then dropped into a more serious one. "I need you to come with me." He grabbed Roy's arm and began dragging him out the door.

Roy narrowed his eyes. "Where are we going?"

"To my place, of course! You need to relax—"

"I was planning to do that before you burst into my house."

"—and have a nice dinner with my family, you've been working so hard on the Fullmetal case you deserve to have a break, and the best way to spend your time is with my wonderful wife and my adorable daughter!"

Roy sighed again and allowed himself to be dragged along, wishing that Maes had given him the chance to change out of his military uniform.

They arrived at the Hughes family's apartment about fifteen minutes later, during which time Roy had to suffer through his friend's endless babbling; he did notice that Hughes's cheerfulness seemed fake, like something was bothering him, but decided not to ask about it until after dinner when they would be guaranteed privacy.

Dinner was enjoyable and relatively relaxing, much to Maes's satisfaction, but Roy was glad once it had ended, because he still didn't quite know how to deal with Elicia, even after all these years of his best friend dragging him to these dinners.

An hour after dinner ended, he was still stuck there playing along with Elicia's story, which she had apparently made up and been shoving in people's' faces, or rather ears, for days. It was something about a teddy bear trying to make friends with a cat. . . . Roy really didn't get how or why she came up something like that.

"All right Elicia," Gracia broke in, "it's time for bed now."

After the little girl had been hustled away with much protest and promises of a bedtime story, Roy narrowed his eyes at Hughes, who dropped his cheerful act at once.

"What's going on, Hughes? Something's bothering you."

"That's actually why I brought you here." Hughes stood up and began leading the way to his office. "There's something fishy going on in this country."

Roy raised his eyebrows, standing up and following. "How so?"

Maes opened the door to his office and shut it behind them once they had both entered. He then proceeded to whip out a map of Amestris from his desk and began unrolling it. "I noticed that there have been a lot of insurrections over the centuries—"

Roy nodded, remembering Hughes's odd behavior yesterday evening.

"—and I circled each of their locations. All I had to do then was connect the dots."

Roy felt a growing sense of dread in his stomach, and rightly so, it seemed, when Hughes laid the map flat on the desktop.

His eyes widened; Hughes didn't need to do any more explaining.

* * *

 **I'm not a huge fan of emphasizing traits in characters (as in making Hughes always go on about his daughter and Armstrong constantly rip off his shirt), but I somehow end up making it happen anyway. . . . Anyway, I finally decided this chapter was finished after I realized that what I had written yesterday was a good enough ending. Yippee! *cough* Anyway, hope you enjoyed, because I wasn't completely satisfied with this chapter, partly due to its length.**

 ***starts getting distracted reading and writing D. Gray-man fanfiction* What? I wasn't doing anything. (*watches D. Gray-man Hallow* Anyone else happy about this continuation anime?)**

 **Please review!**

 **-Quiet Leaf**


	5. Chapter 5

Although he knew it was far too late, Edward was beginning to reconsider his choice to become a criminal. In spite of its perks, it also left a lot of room for influential people to frame you, and he could have sworn one of the generals had been smirking when he was sentenced to death for the murder of Major General Hakuro's family and the man himself.

Yes, that had been the highlight of his trial; his whole day, in fact, because he definitely wanted to die and most certainly didn't have a brother and a good friend who were hoping against hope for his charges to be lifted.

But he _did_ , and he had let them down so hard. Al's horrified face in the stands of the courtroom was imprinted on his memory, and the guilt that had already pervaded his mind had grown immensely.

He had to fix this. But there was no way he could.

Breaking out of prison? Nope, absolutely impossible. Bribing a general or some such person of high social standing was also a no, he couldn't make contact with any generals; even if he could, all that money he owned had already been given to the families and organizations he'd stolen from in retribution for his crimes. He had heard that Mustang was tracking down all the missing objects. All his hard work for nothing. He should have been more careful.

He was about to continue his gloomy thoughts when he heard a gunshot down the hall, followed by a startled shout. He was so surprised he jolted to a sitting position and crashed off the cot from lack of balance. Several noises of alarm sounded from all the other cells, and when Ed craned his neck to look he saw prisoners rushing to the bars of their cells across the hall and peering the way the sound had come from. More yelling had started and footsteps thumped somewhere near the commotion.

After getting over his shock, Edward immediately rolled himself onto his stomach and dragged himself to the bars. He pulled himself into a standing position, using the wall for support, and looked out just in time to see a guard fly past the opening to his corridor. He blinked, not sure if he had imagined it or not.

"Wow, they're really going at it!" Ed glanced at Ling, whose usual smile had an edge to it in spite of his cheery words.

Not a moment later the shouting stopped, leaving behind an eerie silence, and murmurs swept down the hall. Then around the corner ran a blond soldier, carrying . . . No, he was imagining things. There was no way that guard was carrying his automail. . . .

The soldier stopped in front of his cell as if to prove him wrong, and judging by the gaping of the other prisoners he could see, this wasn't a hallucination.

The soldier fished a set of keys out of his pocket and inserted one into the lock. The door swung open. Ed just stared.

"Time to go, pipsqueak," the soldier informed him. Ed let out a startled yelp as he was grabbed around the waist to be carried under the man's arm.

"What—?"

"I was sent to get you out," the soldier explained, leaving the cell and starting down the corridor. Ed could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

Ed's eyes narrowed. "Why would you help me? Did one of my previous employers—"

"Yoo-hoo!"

The soldier paused in his step and Ed stopped talking. They both turned their heads to look back down the hall at Ling, whose voice had risen above the cacophony of confused prisoners.

"What do you want?" the soldier snapped. "We don't exactly have all the time in the world."

Ling's smile grew wider. "Would you mind taking me with you?"

"Yes." He began to continue forward when Ling spoke again.

"I could help you! I'm good with swords."

The soldier seemed to think for a moment before coming to a decision. "Fine, but we're getting rid of you as soon as we've made it to safety." He strode back to Ling's cell and dropped the automail limbs so he could retrieve his keys before unlocking it. The soldier then put down Ed, unwound the binds around his hand, and produced some chalk from another pocket. "Transmute a sword."

"And why should I?"

The footsteps of reinforcements came into earshot.

"Just do it before they get here!"

Clenching his teeth, Ed hastily scribbled a simple transmutation circle next to the cell bars and pressed his hand to it. A moment later a sword emerged from the iron, and he tossed it to Ling. The soldier then picked Ed back up again while Ling tested the balance of his blade.

"You have the tackiest sense of taste," he commented as they took off down the hall again, this time in the opposite direction from before.

"Shut up!"

The footsteps of the new guards came echoing into the corridor, and the strange soldier sped up a bit. Then yet more soldiers spilled in ahead of them.

Great.

In the next several minutes, Ed was swung violently about as the surprisingly agile soldier jumped from one spot to another, dodging shots and retaliating with a mixture of hand-to-hand combat and gun work. Ling wasn't too shabby himself, proving to be almost as good as the soldier

However, Edward got the impression that the fight lasted longer than the soldier would have liked. Having been trained in combat, the guards certainly weren't incompetent, so together they were a match for their opponents. At one point the soldier decided to take his frustration out on them, and didn't hesitate to kill. Ed had to close is eyes to avoid any nausea at the sight of it.

They finally made it out of the building about thirty minutes later and stopped to rest briefly in an alley half a mile from the prison. Ling leaned against the wall, and Ed was dropped unceremoniously on the dirt.

"Ow!" He pushed himself into a sitting position and glared at his rescuer.

The soldier hummed. "They'll be sending people to search for us and will probably say to shoot if we resist; they'll be looking for a Xingese guy, the pipsqueak, and a soldier, so they won't glance at a civilian. . . ."

Alchemic lightning crackled around the officer, red unlike the normal blue, and left behind a brown-haired, blue-eyed man wearing a casual suit.

Ed's mouth fell open, and Ling dropped both his sword and Ed's automail.

"How the hell—? What _was_ that? You're an alchemist?"

The no-longer-a-soldier smirked. "No, I'm a homunculus." Ignoring Ed's further shock, he turned to Ling. "You can go now."

Ling, however, was without certain answers and wasn't about to let them go. "Hold up. What exactly is a homunculus?"

The soldier's grin dropped. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to tell you that," he sighed mock dramatically, making a despairing gesture. "Not that you need to know."

Ling went to pick up the sword, and the homunculus made no move to stop him.

"We don't have time for this, and besides, I don't like fighting." He walked toward Ling, who tensed, but only bent down to collect the automail. "As I said before, you can run along now. I did say before that we'd be dropping you off as soon as we were safe enough not to need you, didn't I?" He straightened and turned around to pick up Ed as well.

Ed snapped out of his stupor and scrambled to get away. "What the hell do you mean, saying you're a homunculus? Homunculi don't exist!"

The supposed homunculus rolled his eyes. "Want me to prove it to ya?" Without waiting for a reply, he transformed one of his hands into a blade and sliced the other off. He didn't manage to hide a wince. Ed was about to _politely_ inquire as to why he had done such a thing when there was a crackle of red and the hand reformed itself.

"Ta-da!"

Ed gaped again and pointed at the hand. "B-but that's not possible! What about equivalent exchange?"

The now-proven homunculus put a hand to his chin as if stroking imaginary facial hair. "Hm . . . screw equivalent exchange." He picked up the indignant Ed successfully this time. "All right, time to move." He turned and smirked at Ling. "Bye." And with that cheerful farewell, the homunculus dashed away.

Ed was still trying to figure out how this was possible, but decided to drop it for now. It was making his head hurt.

Unlike he would have expected, Ling didn't follow them. He supposed he was more cautious than Ed had originally believed.

Brushing Ling from his thoughts, he looked up and glanced around at the surrounding alley walls. "You know, you could have just attached my arm and leg back there and I would have gotten away on my own."

The homunculus scoffed. "We didn't have much time."

"But at least we had _some_ time."

There was no reply.

A few minutes later, they cut dangerously close to a main road. They stopped next to an iron-barred sort of doorway leading to the sewers and, much to Ed's approval, went inside. If one was to hide anywhere in a city, the sewers were the best choice.

Having been in places such as this before, Ed expected the dark and the damp. What he didn't expect was the rustling sounds and low growling coming from above. When he looked up, his was surprised and confused at the sight of several pairs of glowing eyes staring down at him. "What's up there?" He had too many questions to ask as of late.

"Huh?" The homunculus glanced up. "Oh, them. Those are chimeras, we have them guard the place."

This day was almost too much, and it wasn't even noon yet. A stranger comes along and saves him, reveals the ability to alchemically change his appearance and regrow severed body parts, and turns out to be a _homunculus,_ of all things. Now there were a bunch of chimeras guarding a sewer leading to—to—a _lair,_ or something.

If this didn't turn out to be a dream, Ed wouldn't know what to think.

'-'

Van Hohenheim knew for a fact that the cafés in East City were the best. This was why, while waiting for the train headed to South City, he chose to purchase coffee and a pastry from the café closest to the train station.

He seated himself at an empty table once he had received his food and drink and picked up an abandoned newspaper from the seat next to him.

 **FULLMETAL THIEF'S FATE IS DECIDED**

Ah, he'd heard about that. An infamous thief had been caught; he supposed the trial had been held. He took a sip of his drink.

He continued reading and choked on his coffee when he read the next line. He spent a minute coughing and pounding his chest before continuing to read hurriedly.

 **The trial of the Fullmetal Thief, identified as Edward Elric, age seventeen, was held yesterday from the early morning to late afternoon. Authorities say Elric admitted to being the thief after he was brought it.**

 **Following the murder of General Hakuro, Elric was convicted of the crime and sentenced to death. Read more on page 3.**

Hohenheim had enough after that. He slammed down his coffee, left some change on the table, and stalked off, leaving his poor pastry untouched.

The station was packed with people coming and going, rushing about in a hurry to get somewhere. Hohenheim ignored their shouting and bustling about and strode straight to the ticket booth.

"How much for a ticket to Resembool?"

* * *

 **So. Hi. I know this is really, really late, but I kind of bumped into a wall and sat there staring at it for a while. . . . But at least the chapter is a few hundred words longer than usual, right? The chapter word counts should stabilize at about this length, because I actually outlined this chapter before writing it. I should always do that.**

 **Anyway, the reason this chapter came out before December is that I wanted to let all of you know that I will be gone for all of November and probably some of December as well. Why, you ask? NaNoWriMo! Some of you probably already know what this is, but for those who don't, it's a writing challenge where you attempt to write 50,000 words before the end of November. I've never done it properly before, but I shall use this chance to finish my awful original novel so I can rework the plot and write the glorious second draft.**

 **Yeah, sorry about that. Please review! I'll see you guys later. :)**

 **-Quiet Leaf**


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